


The other brother for different reasons

by Murmeltierchen



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-25
Updated: 2017-06-25
Packaged: 2018-11-18 16:03:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11294046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Murmeltierchen/pseuds/Murmeltierchen
Summary: Lady Smallwood doesn't go to Baker Street, but rather to Mycroft's bolt hole. He reads her like an open book and one thing leads to another.





	The other brother for different reasons

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, somehow I cannot stop thinking about this pairing. Took some time to write this but here it is. Finally. Enjoy and tell me what you think. Thanks. Bye.

Turning the car around to head back to Baker Street had been her first idea, but once there she had told her faithful driver a different address, in another part of the city. It was not the main address, rather it was a bolt hole. But she knew where it was and that he would be there, now. Not enough time to drive out to the estate.  
The bell was rung, the buzzer sounded within a matter of seconds, and the door to the flat was opened when she stepped up to it.  
“Lady Smallwood.” He seemed reasonably surprised, but the only indication was his raised eyebrow. He took in her distressed appearance.  
‘Worry lines deepened, eyes shifting, desperate, anxious, something happened, at her club, Make-up renewed, perfume touched up, keeps rumpled handkerchief in left hand.’  
“I need your help.” She said and unceremoniously sidestepped him. Both his eyebrows rose even more.  
“Clearly.” Was his sarcastic reply.  
After closing the door, he followed her into the living room. It was sparsely furnished, a leather sofa, two plush leather chairs, a desk and a revolving designer chair. An entire wall was occupied by an old fireplace, where a warm fire was burning brightly.  
She was pacing in circles, deliberately keeping away from the windows. Her heavy knee-length coat was billowing slightly around her small frame. He watched as she brought up her gloved hand and ran it across the right side of her face. She huffed out her breath, her face scrunched up in disgust.  
“Lady Smallwood, as delightful as your company is at this late hour, do tell me what happened to the right side of your face at your club tonight that has you so very much repulsed, so we may both find some peace and quiet before dawn.” Her circles came to an abrupt halt. Her back was turned to him and he could see her shoulders rising and falling in tune with her harsh breathing. Up, down, up, down, up. Then it stopped.  
“Magnussen.” The whispered word hung in the space between them for a second until Mycroft’s first five theories had been formed, analyzed and dismissed.  
“What does he have?”  
Lady Smallwood whirled around and faced him, her eyes were glistening with unshed tears. “You know what he is doing?” She took a step closer. “You know and you are doing nothing?” Her accusation was spat across the room.  
“I am not doing nothing. I keep a close eye on him and until now he has never done anything in regard to anyone of consequence. So tell me. What does he have?” His cool cutting tone was a lot more effective on her than hers was on him.  
She huffed out a breath before answering. “Letters.”  
“From?”  
“They are private.”  
“Well, they are clearly not from you, you would never make such a fuss about yourself, so it’s clearly someone close, someone very close. One of your children, no. Sister, hmm… interesting, but no.” He moved his head back and looked down at her over the long ridge of his nose. “It’s your husband. Letters with compromising content then.”  
“Yes.” Her whisper was almost inaudible.  
“What did Magnussen do?” Mycroft stepped closer to her, taking in her appearance.  
“He threatened to-“  
“No. That`s not it. It was enough to upset you but not to this degree. Something differ-ent happened.” Studying the changes in her expression was a lot more interesting than blackmail at the moment. Mycroft had been close to falling asleep before the doorbell rang but now, thanks to Lady Smallwood, he was wide awake and she was a puzzle a lot more intriguing than compromising letters.  
He approached her further until he was in reaching distance, but she was avoiding his eyes and instead looked at his tie. Her high heels made sounds on the floor as she shifted from one leg to the other.  
“He touched you?”  
Her sharp intake of breath and the clenching of her gloved fist were enough indication for a blind man. He reached out his hand and put a finger under her chin, lifting up her face until her eyes met his. The mixed look of smoldering hot and open disgust told him everything he needed to know. He turned her face slowly until he had a clear view of the right side. Leaning closer he examined the makeup that had recently been re-newed. There was a lingering whiff that was caught by his nose.  
“This is where he – ran his tongue over your face. It wasn’t the disturbance of your ap-pearance that unsettled you.” His low whisper seemed to further agitate her as her left hand shot up and wrapped around the wrist under her chin.  
“You hate, that he was the one who could do this to you. But-.” He moved his head back to look at her eyes. Her nostrils were flaring and her eyelids fluttered once, twice, as she stared up at him. “-it excited you. More than you would have thought.” He watched her lips part. “That’s why you didn’t go straight to my brother. He wouldn’t know what to do with you. Magnussen is his kind of puzzle, but you...” Mycroft smiled smugly at her, watching her pupils dilate.  
“Mycroft?” A question, a little out of breath.  
“Yes, I think I will.” He cupped her chin and abruptly pressed his mouth to hers. Her reaction was as he had predicted, she answered the demand of his mouth with urgen-cy. It was a hard kiss, slightly messy, but controlled by Mycroft.  
He pulled back abruptly and studied her expression intently. ‘Full blown pupils, smudged lipstick, the natural color of her cheeks half covered by make-up.’  
“How would you like to wash away whatever Magnussen left on you?” He placed his fingertips along her temple, the slightest of touches.  
“That depends. Will I be the only one doing the washing?” Her husky reply was enough to convince Mycroft that this was an opportunity that should not go wasted.  
“Never.” He replied while already leading her out of the room and down the corridor. Her coat went first, followed by her gloves and somewhere along the way the clips holding her hair together were dislodged and clattered to the floor.  
Although the kitchen of this flat was bleak, cold and empty, the same could not be said for the bathroom. It was a large room, compared to the relative size of the flat. But the special feature was the large walk-in shower with a number of jets coming from all sides and several shower heads.  
Lady Smallwood gasped as the lights went on and she saw what was contained with-in. She stepped off her high heels before turning back to Mycroft who had a predatory dark look in his eyes.  
They reached for each other again, tugging on clothes, meeting of lips. Her suit jacket was the first to hit the floor, closely followed by his waistcoat. Ridding him of tie and cufflinks was something she did between a series of bruising kisses that had her going week in the knees a number of times. Once free of those, they worked together to rid him of his shirt. So many buttons. Her blouse and chemise were dumped in a heap on the floor and Mycroft used the free skin to press his lips to one of her breasts. He didn’t stop there, but stooped to put them on her stomach, her ribs and belly until he reached her skirt and had to drop down on one knee.  
He let his hands glide up the back of her stockinged calves and enjoyed how her hand tightened on his shoulder. Stroking upwards on the outside of her thighs he took her skirt with him, exposing the lacy tops of her silk stockings. He made quick work of her knickers and swiftly pressed his mouth to her sex.  
“My god!” Her mouth fell open and her head fell back.  
“Not quite. My-croft is the name.” He deadpanned and she started to laugh heartily but it was cut short by his mouth finding the moist heat of her center again and latching on hard. He took his time in pleasuring her. He only stopped when she fisted one hand in his hair, dropped the other to the wash stand behind her in search of something to hold onto and shrieked so loud his ears rang. He dropped the leg that had been draped over his shoulder and stood up to study her.  
She was flushed bright red, her hair, now no longer confined to her usual up-do, stuck to the thin sheen of sweat on her forehead, long neck and upper back. Her chest was heaving, her beautiful breasts pressed up in her bra, almost spilling over whenever she took a deep breath. Wasn’t she beautiful?  
‘Yes, indeed.’ He thought before tugging off her bra, stockings and finally unzipping the skirt. Their lips were once again glued together, relishing in the taste of each other. Together they divested him of his last articles of clothes and finally stepped into the shower. Fumbling blindly with the control panel, Mycroft managed to make it rain down onto them with warm heavy drops. He walked them under the spray with sure steps and detached his lips from hers. They looked at each other, open-mouthed and catch-ing their breath. Mycroft watched with interest as her make-up began to dissolve and run down her face. He had never seen her without it and curiosity got the better of him. He used his fingers to wipe at the black stains on her cheeks. Bit by bit clean skin emerged. His thumbs cleared the mascara from her eyelashes and his palms wiped the powder off her forehead, cheeks and chin.  
“There,” he brushed back her wet strands and held her even closer than before. “Com-pletely unnecessary,” he muttered and she smiled lazily. Her cheeks were rosy be-cause of the warm water and her eyes slightly red from the make-up, but all of it made her look beautifully young and vulnerable. She was blinking up at him, her lashes long and dark. Without her heels he had a good eight inches on her and he felt oddly obliged to do his best to make her forget herself.  
He leaned down and let his lips linger on hers before proceeding to her cheeks, fore-head, and her long neck. She was letting her hands wander all over his body, finding places that made him hum with appreciation. Her fingers finally followed the line of hair from his chest over his stomach and belly, all the way down to his groin. She was proud of his guttural groan as she took hold of his erection.  
He backed her into the nearest wall and once again let his lips move over hers. She had begun to stroke him and was doing a good job at making him lose control. He broke away with a hiss, his mouth hovering over hers.  
“Milady, if you want to continue this to the next stage, I suggest you withdraw your hand.” His low voice didn’t miss its target. After taking a deep breath she slowly lifted her hand up and onto his shoulder. They shared another hot breath.  
Mycroft abruptly turned her around, pressing her front against the wall and himself against her back. Her startled gasp made him harden a little bit more.  
He pushed his hand between her and the wall, wrapping it across her torso and taking hold of her full breast. She moaned and writhed against him, one of her hands pressed against the tiles in front of her. Her wedding ring gleamed under the spotlights from above. His other hand moved down her torso and slipped between her thighs, which she opened wider for him. His long, elegant fingers found their target and he began with a slow, but steadily increasing rhythm. Her hips were moving in time with his hand, desperately trying to increase the friction. He pushed aside her hair and let his lips ghost over her neck, causing her to shiver and curve a hand over his shoulder to hold him there. Once he heard the pitch of her moans and whimpers change, he pushed his fingers even further and found her slick and ready and little tremors were running through her stomach.  
Mycroft decided to give her what she so obviously needed. He tilted her hips, stooped and aligned himself. Her corresponding moan encouraged him to push into her and how he relished coming into her. This first moment of oneness, the first parting of her inner walls for him. He was overwhelmed for a second and had to catch his breath and he could hear her doing the same. But the need to move was greater and he withdrew only to push back inside at her disapproving groan.  
“Move. I won’t break.” She demanded while pushing back against him to have him go even deeper.  
“As Milady commands.” He spoke through gritted teeth and did as he was told. He var-ied between going slow and deep and hard and shallow, effectively driving her to in-sanity with lust.  
“Haarrr…dear god, Mycroft…” She increased her hold on his neck and brought up her other hand as well.  
He could feel her lose rhythm with him and increased his efforts. His own breathing was becoming short and he didn’t care anymore about his own moans and groans.  
She was shuddering and gasping for breath, her orgasm coming in a series of waves. One of them tore a full throated moan from her throat. Mycroft could do nothing but bury himself deep inside her repeatedly to prolong her orgasm and bring on his own. Her nails were biting into the skin of his neck and raking through the short hair there.  
Finally, Mycroft let out a loud shout through gritted teeth as a powerful climax had him spill everything he had in her warm, inviting heat.  
Gasping for breath and still lazily writhing against each other, they let their heads rest against each other. Lady Smallwood would not admit it out loud but this had been the best damn shag in decades. The tremors and tingling had reached all the way to her fingertips.  
Mycroft was stroking over the soft skin on the underside of her breast and waited for their hearts to quiet down. She would have to leave soon enough. There was a hus-band waiting for her at home. No need to hurry their separation.  
“How do you feel?” He asked between kisses to her shoulder.  
“Mmmmhh…better than I would have thought possible after having sex standing up at my age.” She let out a delighted little laugh. Mycroft didn’t even try to stop the smile from spreading on his face.  
“Always glad to be of service. For Queen and country.” He whispered against her skin. They shared another laugh before slowly washing away the evidence of their coupling and leaving their hideaway inside the shower. Mycroft was the first to leave the bath-room. He picked up another drink and waited for her to emerge in front of the fireplace.  
When she did appear her mask was back in place. She had restored some of her make-up and fixed her hair. She came over to him, shrugging back into her coat.  
“I’ll see you tomorrow?”  
“You will.” He offered her his glass and she took a long sip before handing it back to him.  
“Very well,” She leaned in and pressed her lips to his cheek. “Thank you for this. I didn’t even know how much I needed it.”  
He turned his head to look at her and took in the gleam in her eyes as she smiled at him. Yes, he had put that there and he felt more than good about it.  
“You know where to find me should the need arise.” He finished his drink and walked her to the door.  
“Good night, Mycroft.” Her hand ran over his waist as she walked out the door.  
“Good night, Lady Smallwood.” He caught her eyes when she rounded the corner. It wasn’t necessary to have an exceptional mind like his to figure out that she would be back here. At his door. In his flat. In his arms.  
She couldn’t see the knowing smile on his face as he closed the door but he caught himself in the mirror next to the kitchen entrance. Yes, she would definitely be back.


End file.
